flora
The Greatwood in Leafchange was all copper and gold and sweet decay, the trees shedding their summer brightness for something softer, something deeper. The air held that gentle crispness unique to the turning season, cool enough to lift her curls with each breeze, but not yet biting. Somewhere overhead, a bird chirped out a warble that sounded like it was still deciding whether to leave or stay.
Flora moved confidently along the winding path, boots crunching against fallen leaves and roots that arched like the backs of lazy cats. Last time she’d come this way, she'd been invisible, cautious, but excited for a tea date with her ghost friend. But Dahlia had found her first, all claws and fury and too much silence in her wake.
But that was before. The Family was gone now. Peace—tentative and strange though it was—held long enough for this.
She wore jeans that clung just right and a loose white tank top that fluttered with every step, the hem brushing against the waistband of her belt. Her arms were full, bags tucked against her sides and dangling from her fingers, bursting with wrapped gifts, snacks, and an assortment of activities she’d gathered like offerings. Everything picked with care, and with Niki in mind.
She reached his doorstep and exhaled once, soft but steady. Then, with the heel of her boot planted just so and a smile already tugging at her mouth, she knocked. Three sharp raps, crisp and playful. "HellooOooOOo. Any ghosts inside?"
Flora moved confidently along the winding path, boots crunching against fallen leaves and roots that arched like the backs of lazy cats. Last time she’d come this way, she'd been invisible, cautious, but excited for a tea date with her ghost friend. But Dahlia had found her first, all claws and fury and too much silence in her wake.
But that was before. The Family was gone now. Peace—tentative and strange though it was—held long enough for this.
She wore jeans that clung just right and a loose white tank top that fluttered with every step, the hem brushing against the waistband of her belt. Her arms were full, bags tucked against her sides and dangling from her fingers, bursting with wrapped gifts, snacks, and an assortment of activities she’d gathered like offerings. Everything picked with care, and with Niki in mind.
She reached his doorstep and exhaled once, soft but steady. Then, with the heel of her boot planted just so and a smile already tugging at her mouth, she knocked. Three sharp raps, crisp and playful. "HellooOooOOo. Any ghosts inside?"
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
